Closure
by The Stin
Summary: This is a fanfic of a fangame. Fic-ception. Anyhow, this fic contains MASSIVE SPOILERS for Turnabout Substitution. If you've played the game, good for you. if not, get it using the links in the story. Once again this is a fan based story based on another fan based story. Please excuse the obnoxious SPOILER ALERTS inside. Rated T for descriptions of murder, but not much else.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Ace Attorney or have any connection with Capcom. I also have absolutely no association with Turnabout Substitution and its development.**

**DO NOT READ THIS FIC IF YOU HAVE NOT PLAYED TURNABOUT SUBSTITUTION. IT WILL SPOIL THE ENTIRE CASE FOR YOU. IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAYED IT, DOWNLOAD PYWRIGHT, AND TURNABOUT SUBSTITUTION RIGHT NOW FROM THE LINKS BELLOW THE FIRST SPOILER ALERT BARRAGE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME.**

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** So this fic is essentially the aftermath of the fangame Turnabout Substitution, the fifth case of Apollo Justice made by and for fans. If you haven't played it, two things. First, get it right now. It's a great case, with quality you wouldn't expect from a fangame. It runs on the Pywright Case maker, and both the application and the game are easy enough to find on the internet from their own websites.**

**The game can be downloaded here: **

** . **

**Pywright can be downloaded here: **

** wordpress/downloads/**

**Once again, I seriously recommend this game to anyone willing to take the five minutes to download it.**

**Second, If you're reading this and you still haven't played the game, then that means you didn't pay attention to the first massively obnoxious spoiler alert… Or maybe you just came for the links. Anyhow, I guess I can forgive y'all, and I can't stop you guys from reading on, but I seriously think that would be a mistake. Again, this fic contains massive spoilers for the mentioned fangame, and if you would be so kind as to play that first so you won't be mad at me when you see all of the twists and turns coming, that'd be great. Now, another obnoxious spoiler alert followed by a blurb!**

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** And now for that summary. For those of you who STILL haven't played the game, this is the last chance to turn back before you read on. Because there are spoilers in the summary.**

**Summary: **So Everything's all well and good now. Erlenmeyer is innocent, Rhea is in prison, and Apollo Justice is back on top of things! Unfortunately Things can't just be that simple.

**Clooney's Prison Asylum**

**Time:? Date:?**

Am I alive? Stupid question, but I'll humor myself. After all I can ask myself the question, therefore, I am alive, right? But there's so much more to it than that.

In order to live, one must have a meaning, something to live for; otherwise they may as well be dead. Purpose gives us meaning, and meaning allows one to truly live.

But what about those without purpose? Those who have no drive in life, other than fearing death? Is such existence really worth preserving?

Of course not. So I saw it my purpose to exterminate those who did not live. They were after all, already dead. I was just speeding up Mother Nature's work.

That is my purpose. Or was. Or is it still? I don't know anymore. There was simply no other way to live. I can still remember the glee I felt during my first kill. And my second. And all of the others, straight through my beloved brother, and up to my most recent thirteenth, the ever decrepit Judge Chambers. I painted marvelous tapestries of blood and gore, and wove masterful sonatas of screams to the rhythm of snapping bones. That used to be all there was.

Now I don't know what to think anymore. Without my ecstasy of organs, life is no longer worth living. I try to finish it, but they constantly inhibit me with untimely interruptions. I remember the earliest attempts, digging my finger nails deep into the flesh of my arms. Not long after were my finger nails removed for "my own safety". Can't they see I'm already dead? No matter what I try, they refuse to let me finish. Whether hanging with bed sheets, or beating myself on the wall, They'll always take the sheets, or move me into the soft room.

I don't like the soft room. They don't let you hang pictures.

My one picture. I hate it so much. It's held up on the wall with a few strips of tape, nothing special. It's just a little photo of me and a boy. The boy who put me here. The boy who killed me. I hate him. I hate him with every ounce of energy I haven't already spent in this hell. I hate him so much, but I need that picture.

If I can't see it, I can't breathe. Reality becomes disconnected. I forget who I am.

I forget who _he_ is.

His face is all that is keeping me sane. I hate it so much but I can't stand to be apart from it. I hate it so much but I go to sleep at night muttering "Polly, Polly, Polly," to myself. I hate it so much but I need it to be there for me.

Everything is his fault. He's the reason I'm here. He's the reason I'm dead.

He's the reason nothing makes sense anymore.

"_Other people make life worth living"._

I still hear his words in my head, a tremor that shakes my skull and won't go away!

"_You're the only one not living here"._

Everything's so confusing now. I try to make myself feel better. I visualize me and him. Together. Alone. I pull out a knife. I plunge it deep into his stomach, and pull it out. His mouth hangs open in shock. I sink in the blade again, higher up on his chest this time. Blood pours generously out of the open first wound. I pull my weapon out and drive it in once more, closer to his throat. This time he vomits blood mixed with saliva, the same color as his red vest. This imaginative process continues until he is little more than ground meat all over the floor. I look at my handiwork. I stare blankly at it.

Why aren't I smiling? There was a time when just the thought of performing such actions filled me with incredible happiness. So why am I not happy?

Why doesn't the pain go away?

**June 15 12:40 PM**

**Wright Anything Agency**

**Apollo's Room**

It's been almost six months. Six months since that awful case.

A good man died there. Not that the victims in my other cases weren't good people but… it wasn't just that. I knew Judge. Albeit not that well, but still, well enough to consider him a friend, in a weird way.

It was so sudden too. One day we're getting him acquitted and celebrating, the next he's dead, run over in a cemetery by his own car, and I'm defending a convicted serial killer on the charges of another murder. That's not even getting to the part where I proved him innocent and got my new girlfriend convicted with thirteen charges of manslaughter and the prosecution turned herself in for forgery.

The aftermath, was decidedly less bitter. An innocent man recovered from mental illness and was recently found not guilty of the charges pressed on him so long ago. Ms. Poole was satisfied, despite her disbarment following her own trial. Chief Justice Strings even got out of jail after paying a hefty bail, and I hear his son is doing well in his new profession. All's well that ends well right?

So why do I keep getting this feeling? It's been eating away at me for a few months now. This frustration and anger. At being manipulated. At being fooled. At my own freaking hormones.

Looking back it should have been obvious. All the subtle hints, the times she just up and disappeared. Even if everyone keeps telling me how good of a liar she was, I can't accept how completely and utterly she had me wrapped around her finger.

Worse yet, I can only seem to get mad at myself. For being weak, for being stupid, and for a whole other slew of things. When it comes to her though, I'm not sure how I feel.

Rhea Wits. Funeral director, photo editor, and serial killer. Yeah Apollo, you sure know how to pick 'em.

She had me eating out of her hand from day one. Next thing I know, we're out to dinner and I'm on cloud nine. Fast forward a bit, and there I am telling her off in court. Granted then I was on an adrenaline rush. If I hadn't been in the hottest trial of my life at the time, I'm sure I would've broken down at least once. I'll bet I would've done it on the plane too if Mr. Wright hadn't been keeping me busy with his antics.

All in all, the trip to Borginia may have been just what I needed after such a strenuous ordeal. I enjoyed my "vacation" from Trucy and Mr. Wright, but in the end those two are part of my family now. My sister and my weird surrogate father. Of course my mother helped too. The whole trip gave me a chance to forget, and I took it readily.

Then we came back. At first it was just business as usual, but then the paper work started coming, and so did the memories. All the pressure came back down. Reality sunk back in.

Even after all of these months, I'm still stuck on her. Her actions revolt me. Her conduct sickens me, her thoughts even more so. But I still can't decide what I feel about Rhea Wits the person.

Do I hate her? Likely, but not certain. Do I pity her? Plausible, but I still can't tell. Do I like her? Maybe I did, but now?

Even after what I said in court, I still can't bring myself to make a conclusion. There I told her who she was. Who I thought she was. Why she lost. But even after those epiphanies I still don't know what to think.

I can't be sure about anything when it comes to her. Not even myself.

**June 15 12:45 PM**

**Wright Anything Agency**

**Outside Apollo's Room**

It's been a little less than six months since we got back from Borginia.

Since then Apollo's been like a different person.

Thalassa and Trucy did their best to cheer him up. They did what good family does when crap like this happens. They give you a hug, and encourage you to move on. Forget about it. It's in the past.

Even so, neither of them can empathize with Apollo the way I can right now. The scars left by first love are always slow to heal. Even slower when said first love turns out to be a backstabbing serial murderer. Very few people could understand that kind of pain like me or Apollo. Granted in my case, I had built my relationship with the killer's identical twin sister as opposed to her, but I didn't know that at the time. The point still holds. Besides, Right now I know what Apollo needs, and it isn't to forget. I knock on the door.

"It's open".

I Poke my head in the door and plaster on my "sometimes real sometimes fake smile" that I'd been using ever since I adopted Trucy. "Got a minute?" I ask in a tone so cheery I just might be irritating myself.

Apollo groans and looks towards me from his position sitting at his desk. "I don't suppose you'll let me say no, will you?"

I allow my smile to widen ever so slightly. "Exactly." I close the door behind me and take a seat on his bed across the room from him. I allow myself some seriousness in my voice. "Are you alright? Trucy and Thalassa have been worrying about you."

"I'm fine." He says half-heartedly, looking down at his desk again.

"You don't sound fine. What's eating at you?"

This time he answers forcefully, "I said I'm fine."

I allow the façade to drop now. "No. You're not." I say seriously with a frown.

Apollo seems slightly taken aback. It's not often where I stop being Trucy's daddy and his boss Mr. Wright, and start being Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney again. He quickly regains control of himself however. "It's none of your business anyway. Just let me handle it."

"Apollo, your business is our business. Besides the fact that we're your family now, I can't let you take on cases like this." He doesn't look surprised. Smart boy. Must have known that this was coming. Instead he looks more tired than anything else.

"Listen," he begins. "I know I can't defend anyone properly right now, and I won't until I have this figured out, but I don't need you to hold my hand while I do it."

"Thought never crossed my mind." I smirk momentarily, but a second later it fades away. "I don't want to treat you like a little kid, but I won't just leave you alone if all you plan on doing is beating yourself up over it."

"I'm not beating myself up over anything!"

"Then what have you been doing in here? You and I both know this is about that Rhea girl." He flinches as I say her name.

"Yeah… It is." He trails off.

"Apollo look at me when I'm talking to you."

He looks up at me with an angry expression. "What!?"

"What do you think you should do next?"

"I… I…" A brief flash almost makes me blink. As if from nowhere chains fly around Apollo, making a sort of cage. As the chains finally stop moving, two red locks appear. "I don't know," he finally says.

I try to keep myself from sighing. I honestly thought this would be a simple guy to guy talk, but since he seems to want to play it the hard way, then so be it. I reach into my pocket.

"Mr. Wright, what are you loo-"

"TAKE THAT!"

**Apollo's Dilemma**

**What Should I do?**

"What the hell was that!?" Apollo yells, having nearly fallen off his chair.

"Just a warm up is all. I figure if you're going to play stingy witness, I may as well play cross examination."

"Wha- Who's being stingy?!"

I ignore the remark. "So Apollo," I begin. "You claim that you don't know what to do, correct?"

"I-" Apollo almost yells, but collects himself. "Yeah. I don't have a clue about what I should do."

I briefly consider what angles I can take from here. I may need to beat around the bush here and there to make up for not having any evidence to bolster an argument. Then again, this is a matter of a mental uncertainty, not an unchangeable event. I guess all I can do is play it by ear. The good old Phoenix Wright method. Absolutely no preparation.

"Then how do you feel about it?" I ask. "That should at least give you some input on the matter."

"I… I…" his resolve falters. "I don't know." One of the locks shatters. One down, one to go.

"Well if you don't know how you feel, how would you know what needs to be done?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." He stares down at the floor.

"I think the next step would be logical. In fact you've already figured it out."

"What do you mean?" He looks at me puzzled.

"If you don't know how you feel, you don't know what you should do. Therefore the first thing you should do… is find out how you feel."

"But how would I do that?" He already knows. I can tell he's just denying himself.

"If you can't do anything, because you're not sure how you feel about Rhea Wits, then the next logical step, would be…" He cringes. He knows what's coming. "To talk to Rhea Wits," I finally say. The second lock breaks.

**Unlock Successful**

We sit there in silence for a few moments. He eventually speaks up. "Would that really be a good idea?"

I smile for him again. "Well it can't hurt anything." I stand up and approach him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Listen, I know what it feels like to fall for someone, and I know what it feels like to find out that they were more than you ever would have bargained for. I didn't figure it out for a while, but the one thing I needed the most, was closure."

"But she's in a mental asylum! I put her there!"

"I still think you might have it a bit easier than I did. After all, I didn't get to really end things until she wound up coming back from the dead. Perhaps a set of prison doors would be a bit easier to bypass?" His mouth gawks open. I know he's read the case files on Dahlia. I still don't know if he ever managed to wrap his head around the Kurain channeling technique. I'd have to get Maya over here to show him sometime. "Anyhow, my point is that this isn't going to just stop eating at you. Sooner or later, you'll need to confront her and figure out just how you feel, or you'll be stuck in here staring at the wall until you're just as crazy as she is."

Apollo sighs. "Yeah, I know. But… It's just…"

"Creepy? Awkward? Any combination of the two? The fact is stuff like this is never simple or easy. You'll just have to muster up the courage to go see her. Even if she is your crazy homicidal ex-girlfriend."

"Mr. Wright… You're not helping."

I chuckle and finally take my hand off of his shoulder. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, but I've said what I came to say. My question is just whether you're willing to do what it takes or not."

He pauses for a while, just sitting there thinking. About thirty seconds later, I'm about to exit the room, when he speaks up.

"Fine."

"So you'll see her?"

"Yeah. I'll try things your way." He stands up and looks me in the eye. "I've been sitting up here doing nothing for too long. I can't just sit here and pretend the problem will go away if I lament it enough. Besides, I can't just worry you guys like this."

I nod my head. "That's the spirit Justice." I turn around to exit the room. "Thanks for letting me in."

"Wait!" I pause. "Mr. Wright. Thank you."

I give a short wave before leaving. "Anytime."

Once I finally close the door behind me, I give a short sigh of relief. I've never been good with heartfelt conversations. Part of the reason I haven't totally driven Trucy away is ironically because of how independent she is to begin with. Someone needs a talk like that, I can ask Thalassa. This time it had to be me though. With any luck, I won't need to meddle anymore and Apollo will figure the rest out on his own.

**So here's the part where I explain just why I wanted to write this fic. For those of you who played the case, Turnabout Substitution was very well made and well written, granted with a good amount of frustration coming from the last part of the second trial. In that spirit, I want it to be known that I was in no way unsatisfied with the ending given. In fact I think I like the whole bit with Rhea being a psychotic serial killer. Then there's that creepy bit in her cell where she's just looking at the photo of her and Apollo and the face just seems to say, "…SOON." But I felt that that ending, whether intentionally or not, was fairly open to interpretation. Rhea seemed fairly lacking in any remorse for the crimes she committed, and didn't bother to make any purposeful connection with her victims. Even killing her brother seems to have little effect on her, seeing as the only reason she did it was so she could testify at Erlenmeyer's trial. Then along comes Apollo Justice. She uses him straight up to the end, until he finds her out and exposes her. She claims that she had been the only one living, but then Apollo goes and turns her world upside-down. He tells her that her victims were in fact living, but in reality, she was the only one who wasn't living. I think it's worth noting that up to this point, Rhea had been very uncaring about her verdict, but after Apollo says these things, she has a traditional witness breakdown. All of these things led to my portrayal of her in this fic. Although she is a serial killer without remorse, she is now confused by Apollo's words. I remember having this idea a few hours after beating the game and seeing her in the asylum looking crazier than usual.**

**Anyhow, that's it pretty much. Catch you guys later. Please leave reviews and constructive criticism. Most feedback is welcome.**


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